Dreams
by Adina-Anne
Summary: Instead of needed psychological help to stay sane, Bobby must give it to Alex.
1. Chapter 1

I own none of these characters. I'm just here to write another FanFic that I would like to read.

**The Stakeout**

The stakeout was going slow. After 9 hours and no activity, Eames was losing consciousness. How Bobby was able to stay awake through the night was beyond her. Taking one last look at the clock on the dashboard, 4:14 am, and another at the house, she closed her eyes. She knew she shouldn't sleep on the job, but Bobby could handle it…and nothing was happening anyway, that was for sure.

From the very beginning, Detective Robert Goren had studied his new partner. Now, five years later, he knew her better than he knew anyone else he had ever met, and that included him. The way she had curled into the right side of the driver's seat when they started the stake out earlier that night was one of the many things she did to make her feel comfortable. He knew that more often than not, when she returned home she would curl up on the sofa with a glass of red wine or a mug of hot chocolate and read cheerful novels to alleviate the stress of what they saw on the streets everyday. This comforting position seemed natural to most women. He assumed it was instinct for them. Women were more in tune with their bodies and their capabilities. The curled position Eames was in right now vaguely resembled that of a child in the womb. Every human's first position was similar—we all start curled up in a ball with our knees near our chin. It seemed fitting that most people found that curling position comfortable.

He smiled to himself. _We all start out the same; the real question is what makes us different?_ So he knew the typical answers to that question: genes, environment, childhood, relationships with one's mother, etc. There just seemed to be more to it. _Another mystery to be solved at the local library_, he thought. He continued thinking about the differences in people (and thanking those differences, how boring this world would be if everyone was the same) while watching the house across the street. Three days ago, The Metropolitan Opera House received an anonymous call during their performance of La Traviata concerning the safety of the audience, performers and everyone in the building. After evacuation, the bomb squad found five bombs strategically placed to take down the ceiling of the theater. Not a good way to end a Thursday evening.

Eames hadn't moved in several minutes. _Must be sleeping. I don't blame her._ Eames hadn't been sleeping well, if at all, since the report. Though no one was hurt, her sister and brother-in-law had unfortunately chosen that night to get out of the house to witness some fine art. All of a sudden, she fell off of the back of the chair. He moved quickly before she fell too far. After wriggling himself toward her slightly so they could both be comfortable, he rested her sleeping form on his torso. She would never approve, but she was asleep at the moment and he wasn't about to destroy her desperately needed nap for the sake of her opinion.

He liked being close to her. It wasn't a sexual desire he had, more one of longing. Most people shied away from him. Human contact wasn't something he felt very often. He never expected his male friends and coworkers to give him more than a handshake. In fact, he probably wouldn't appreciate much more contact than that—depending on the situation of course. Every woman he tried to get close to was too intimidated by his size or too weirded out by his personality—every woman except Eames. Their relationship was professional. Sometimes their friendship shown through more than their partnership, but there was nothing more than that. They would touch each other on the arm or the shoulder to get the other's attention, and there had been the occasional friendly hug when one or the other was going though a rough patch, but that summed up most of the human contact Goren had. He knew people whispered that he was anti-social, and sometimes he couldn't find a plausible explanation against their theories.

He knew watching the house was his first priority at the moment, but he also knew the suspect was asleep—there was still time before he would wake up for the day. Goren took his eyes off the house and looked down at the small form that he was holding onto. The scent of her shampoo found it's way to his nose. It smelled tropical, but he couldn't place it. Feminine shampoo was one of his weaker areas. _So there is something that Eames is more of an expert at._ He smiled, as he knew she would if she could hear his thoughts. He lowered his face to the top of her head and placed a kiss on the part of her hair. She stirred in his arms and sighed before resettling. What had he just done? He analyzed his actions. He had done nothing wrong; it was just another show of affection. He was thanking her for being there for him; that was all. She was his life support—he needed her to be himself. He knew it, she knew it, Deakins knew it, probably the whole squad did. That was all; he was just thanking her for being there with him through the night.

They hadn't talked much on this particular night, he was in one of those thinking modes most of it, but just her presence gave him the comfort that he could drift off into a mental realm only to be greeted by her when he returned. It was she in fact that allowed him to return. Several times a month she would swing by in the morning to drive him to the office to find that he was standing in the kitchen or sitting in the living room resting his jaw on this fist, thinking. Though he would come back to reality soon after she entered the doorway, he was fairly certain that she knew he didn't sleep on those nights because he was lost in thought.

i/ _One more kiss can't hurt._ /i She was asleep anyway. He brought his head down to hers again and repeated his previous action. Only this time he too left consciousness before sitting up again. Any on-looker would have suspected that the two were more than just friends.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey you guys, thanks for the reviews (they were more positive than I expected and had me jumping for joy!) but I really need input on a plot! Right now all I have is romantic fluff but I wanted to add some heart-wrenching agony (hence the angst). Please give me ideas and I'll see what I can mold into a story! Thanks again! Oh, and let me know if I make any mistakes. Like I'm not sure if Eames has a brother and a sister-in-law, or a sister and a brother-in-law—I've seen both and I don't know the show well enough to say. I know it's sad, but I've only seen a few episodes from season 4.

The Opera 

Alex was trapped. She had been spending one of her free evenings watching The Marriage of Figaro when part way through the performance, a nasty feeling started to rise in her stomach. As she looked around the audience, three dark forms were leaving through the exits. Chiding herself, she turned back to the performance. They were probably just going to the bathroom. The Opera House was certainly large enough that the probability of three audience members heading to the bathroom at any one time was likely. But she found out too late that she was wrong.

Only seconds after the three had left the room, there was an explosion from the top balcony on the right side of the theater. Chaos ensued. A sea of terrorized people frantically searching for safety prevented her from hearing anything but screaming. She knew there must have been more explosions; shards of glass and wood flew over the torrent of fear caused by the falling ceiling. A huge ripping sound came from above, as the main rafter broke, weakened by the explosions and unable to support the weight of the roof and chandelier. And as soon as it had started, it stopped.

She had been out who knows how long. She felt light-headed and dreaded that fact that she knew she had to open her eyes at some point in the near future. She really didn't want to see the theater full of bodies smashed by what use to be a place of relaxation. She knew she was still alive, but that didn't mean anyone else was. She felt extremely warm and there was a weight pressed against her waist. The rafter must have caught her on it's decent to the ground. She couldn't move it off of her and had difficulty turning even a few centimeters to the side. She needed to call for help, even if she wasn't injured, other people were, but she couldn't find the voice to call out. The more she struggled, the more her present fatigue got to her. She stopped struggling, and gave up, resigned to wait for help. But as she opened her eyes to survey the damage, she was shocked to discover that she wasn't in the theater at all.

Goren had woken up when the warm figure in his grasp had started squirming. Eames was having a bad dream. He checked the clock quickly; he had only been asleep twenty minutes and she not much longer. No matter how much he wanted to save her from the frightening world she was in, he couldn't help but feeling like she needed comforting. He let her sleep through he trauma, but he was there to help her through.

Their roles reversed as they sat in the car. Usually it was Goren lost in a mental reality and Eames was there to hold him in the living veracity. But now Eames was lost in her mind, unable to find her way back and Goren was holding on, trying to help her, but knowing that she might lose her reason for being there. He hated when he was brought back to reality by Deakins or the radio or even Eames at times, just before he was about to figure out why he left in the first place. Now it was Eames's turn to explore a psychological universe and discover what she needed before being brought back to the car.

Finally, she opened her eyes. "Hello, sleep well?" Goren, as usual, knew the answer. Eames went stiff in his arms.

"What the hell…? Where are we?"

"Still on the stakeout. So, what was so horrifying that you kept squirming and moaning?"

Realization hit Alex as she turned to face her partner. Not only had he let her sleep through a nightmare for no particular reason, but he had been holding her. No wonder she couldn't move under the weight around her waist; Bobby was large enough to snap her in two with one hand if he felt like it, let alone keep her from turning in his grasp. And more to the point, she realized there was more than one reason why she had started sweating. She was glad she was facing away from Goren at that moment, there was no way she could have hidden the slight color that came to her cheeks. "Uhh…what?"

"Never mind. It's just that you fell asleep and I was w-wondering what you w-where dreaming." Goren knew he was stepping into territory that she didn't want to share with him and he couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

Alex let her head fall back on his chest. _Is he _still_ holding me? Yes…_ She couldn't hold anything from him. In slight aggravation, she filled him in on her dreamland trip to the opera. "I think a lack of sleep and too much case work have affected my head."

"What opera were you watching?"

"The Marriage of Figaro. I don't even know the story! It could have at least been an opera I know about—like Carmen!" Bobby laughed at that. She knew he would; it was a daily occurrence for him to laugh at her jokes. It was never loud or rolling, just a touch of joy large enough to make him smile and chuckle a little. Alex loved those moments when she could make him laugh. It made her feel good to give joy to someone as different and solitary as Bobby. Sometimes she even found herself forcing out the jokes just to see him smile even though she believed he was smiling more out of habit at times like those, but it still made her happy.

"You mean to tell me that you've never seen The Marriage of Figaro?" Alex shook her head. "Well, I hope you're not busy on Saturday night then."

Alex gave him an indignant stare. "I have an extra ticket." She knew he didn't, but decided not to press the issue. She rarely turned down a chance to figure out another side of her partner. And to tell the truth, she'd rather be with him at the opera than stuck at home watching TV, or worse, going over cases.


	3. Chapter 3

**Men in Black**

On stage, Cherubino was jumping from the window as Susanna hurriedly hid. There was a lull in the performance as the Count and his wife were late on their entrance. Alex looked around. She liked the show, but it wasn't her cup of tea. Opera had too much singing for her, and it didn't help that she couldn't understand a word of Italian. "Bobby, I'll be back in a minute, I need to go to the bathroom." He nodded in response.

Once outside the theater, she looked around for a sign to lead her to the restroom but couldn't find one. Instead she headed toward two young men dressed all in black. _Must be stage hands_, she thought to herself. But as she approached, she heard something that made her shiver. "Which one goes off first?"

"The one on the far right of the stage…idiot."

"Haha! I love a dramatic exit!"

Alex didn't stay to hear the rest of their conversation. She quietly turned to warn Bobby, careful not to tip the men off as to her presence. "Hello, Miss. Can we help you?" So much for being sneaky…

"Uh, I was just looking for the bathroom."

"Just down the hall and to your left."

"Thank you." She didn't need anymore prompting. Once inside the bathroom, she tried to calm her nerves. This couldn't be happening. They were just talking about the show, that was all. The actors must exit at some point, no doubt one of them could be dramatic. Or it could be another—no, no! She couldn't think like that; it was insane. They weren't even at the same Opera house! _Just too much work, and too little sleep. I have to keep telling myself that._ If only she believed it.

She waited a minute before leaving the bathroom and heading back to the theater. Bobby didn't even look at her as she sat down, he was so wrapped in the performance. _He must really love this stuff…_ Not wanting to show signs of weakness and knowing that what she had witnessed didn't prove anything, she tried to keep her nerves at bay.

At intermission she told Bobby what she had seen. She couldn't tell how concerned he was. Hell, she couldn't tell how much she was concerned, let alone the most difficult person she'd ever befriended.

"You say they were all in black? Like-like stage crew?"

"Yes."

"Well, that would give them reign of the theater. They could access it at almost anytime, and they would know the structure well. Was there anything else that made you suspect anything?" The lights flashed. "Come on, let's go back. If anything else happens we'll warn Deakins."

Before he could leave, Alex pulled him into a hug. Startled for a moment, he wrapped his arms around her. She was scared but couldn't decide if her fear was real or just a figment of her stress. She wanted to cry, to go home and sleep. But she couldn't leave, not now, not until the show was over.

Bobby led her back to her seat and they settled in as the show resumed. Act IV commenced without further trauma. And that's when she noticed it. As if on cue, from different locations in the theater, three people stood and walked toward the exit. One walked by her in the aisle and she recognized his face. He was the man who had led her to the bathroom! Her hand grabbed Bobby's arm, but her eyes never left the man in black. "Bobby, they're leaving!" He looked up in time to see the man leave the theater. Both detectives stood up and quickly followed.

When they got out into the hall, the two men and a woman, all in black, were hastily talking. Bobby went up to them without hesitation but all three ran when they noticed him. Alex quickly caught up with the woman who was stupid enough to wear four-inch heels while running from the police. But the two men were gone before Bobby could grab either one.

"What is this? Who are you?" The woman screeched.

"I'm Detective Eames and this is my partner Detective Goren." Alex replied holding her against a pillar. "Want to tell us what's going on out here? It better not be more confusing than that show back in the theater."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She replied indignantly.

Bobby had returned from the pursuit and positioned himself so that the woman was cornered between the two partners and the pillar. Alex let her go and immediately the woman tried to follow her cohorts. Unfortunately for her, Bobby was in the way and wrestled her to the ground before she knew what hit her.

"Oh, she's a feisty one we have here Goren. What is this?" A small black object fell out of the woman's coat pocket. Alex picked it up and noted that there was a button on one end of the cylindrical piece of plastic. This was not a tube of lipstick. "Lady, what's your name?"

"Gabriella Merksom."

"Well Gabriella, you are under arrest for attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

The theater had been cleared and sure enough, there were more bombs. This time they weren't intended to just take the ceiling down. Explosives were found under the stage, in the orchestra pit and even in some of the seat cushions. The bomb squad predicted certain death for at least 80 of the people in the theater had the bombs been allowed to go off.

After Gabriella had been put in Central Booking, Goren took Eames home. She had invited him up to her apartment for a drink and now they were sitting on her couch, Eames staring into space and Goren watching her. "Eames…Eames…?" No response. She was shaken, it didn't take a genius to see it. He put his glass on the coffee table and took hers from her hand and placed it by his. She didn't notice. Something was wrong. It wasn't like Eames to be so stressed that she couldn't notice when something was taken from her.

He moved closer and pulled her to him. She turned into his embrace and buried her head in his chest. He held her close, knowing that she needed emotional support. Only after a few moments did he notice she was crying. All the stress, the lack of sleep, the long work hours, the threat of her family's lives, her partner's life—her life—was finally sinking in.

Eventually she fell asleep but he didn't move her. She needed someone to be close. This he knew from experience and it killed him to know that there was never anyone for him. He wouldn't do that to her. He kissed her head for the third time that week and started thinking. She continued to sleep while he held her, lost deep in thought.

A/N: Does anyone know the connection between the chapter title and the actual show? I found it hard to believe at first. Creepy…shivers 


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriella had told them nothing before asking for her lawyer. Bobby was ready to have a fit, but only Alex could tell. She left the interview room and met up with Deakins and Carver. "She's not going to talk."

"Well, Carver, do we have enough to hold her?" Deakins was confused by this whole matter. Why would anyone want to hurt an entire theater? They couldn't be mad at just one person—it seemed almost as if they hated the whole idea of opera.

But it wasn't really the case that was bothering him. It was Eames and Goren. They weren't working right. Deakins had watched them enough during interviews that he could pick up on their little games to pull out information, but today they were off. Goren had started his I-don't-know-anything-about-this-subject-why-don't-you-fill-me-in character at which point Eames would start defending whatever or whoever it was the suspect hated. Then Eames, obviously the less intimidating of the two, would be verbally attacked while Goren would be filled in on the subject, rallying up the suspect to the point where he or she would seemingly campaign for the right to murder or whatever else they were in for. But not today.

Goren had started off fine, but Eames missed the beat and couldn't get back in the game. She tried and eventually gave up. She sat there, hoping Goren could help her out. Instead, he glanced over at her a few times and a fleeting image of worry would cross his face only to disappear immediately.

"The bombs and the detonator are enough to convict her. I'll set up an arraignment and we'll offer her a deal in exchange for names." Carver turned to leave, over hearing the beginning of Deakins' next words.

"Alex, are you alright? You seem…very tense."

He had called her Alex, great. That meant he was worried too. She wanted to be left alone. She knew why she was so tense, and she appreciated the concern, but Bobby was enough. She liked the hugs, but it was too stifling, too fast. She didn't need this from her captain too. "I'm fine, just sleep deprived." He reached over to put a supporting hand on her shoulder and she tensed up. It took will power on her part not to pull away. _Ahhh! Just drop it, I'm fine!_

"Alex, take the rest of the day off. Get some rest."

"No, I'm—"

"Alex, that's an order." She turned and left in a huff. If Deakins wanted her gone, than she'd be gone.

She picked up the phone when she got to the apartment and called her sister. They talked, and Alex felt reassured. Her sister was kind enough to hand the phone to her nephew who, at two years of age, was just beginning to talk. Alex smiled, a heartfelt smile, and felt calm for the first time in days. Then the doorbell rang. She opened the door just as her sister was getting back on the line. "Can I call you back?" Alex turned abruptly and hung up the phone. "What?" she snapped.

Bobby paused. Why was she like this?

"I know why you're here, Bobby, and I don't want it. I don't want you to feel sympathy for me, I don't want you to worry about me, and I _don't_ want your psychological support!" What was going on here? She had to deal with him, not the other way around! Bobby stood there, stupefied, knowing his unsocial personality didn't give him the experience to deal with this kind of situation. He sat on the couch and waited for her to finish her tirade.

When she started gasping for air, he went in, completely ignoring the situation before him. "I know Deakins told you to rest, but I know you well enough that you won't do that no matter what his says. W-would you like to go on a stakeout tonight?" She whipped around to face him, her eyes glaring something fierce. As much as she would have liked to deny it, Bobby was right, she didn't want to rest.

"What?"

"I looked through Gabriella's house I took note of a pastime of hers. She's a ballroom dancer." Another piercing look from Eames. "We found T-strap shoes, and several dance costumes in her closet. It explained the way she walks, there's never a part of her that's not moving."

"How do we know which club she goes to?" She had calmed down somewhat, but was still inaccessible.

"She left a flyer on her table for a competition next week. S-so, would you like to go dancing with me?" She raised an eyebrow at him, still not convinced. "Deakins doesn't know, so technically you wouldn't be working."

"I don't know any dances." He had her. She wanted to go, he could tell, but she was coming up with any reason not to.

"Y-you've never gone dancing?" He asked, almost smiling.

"No."

"Your part would be easy. I'll teach you some of the basic step before we get there. The rest is you following my lead, you don't have to know the move." He stepped closer but held back, there was still an air of anger about her.

"So, how do we do this?" She had never gone dancing, never even thought about it. Where in her history would ballroom dancing ever play a part? Everyone she had ever spent her time with was a cop, not a dancer.

Disregarding the apprehension in the apartment, he proceeded with the lesson. "Hold your hands up." She did and he placed her left hand on his shoulder. Taking her right hand in his left, and circling her waist with his right, he said "Keep your left arm in contact with mine and hold a slight pressure against my other hand." He proceeded to teach her the basic Waltz, surely a dance that any dancer would know. She picked up the steps quickly enough, but obviously she wasn't born to dance. Her movements were awkward and jerky, but they continued anyway.

An hour and a half later, she knew the Waltz, the Two-Step and a basic Swing, but couldn't for the life of her figure out the timing of the Tango. "Slow, slow, quick, quick, quick. One, Two, Tan-go, close."

"No, I don't get it! Stop. Let's just give up for now."

"Eames—"

"Bobby." She said warningly. Obviously she was still boiling under the surface. He didn't push it. She wandered into the kitchen, looking for something to drink. She had never expected dancing would be such a workout. Maybe she should take it up—running was not her favorite pastime, to put it mildly. Bobby on the other hand, walked right by the kitchen into her bedroom. Curiosity soon over took Alex and she followed her partner to see what he was doing.

She found him in her closet rummaging through her clothes. "Need some help?"

"Actually, I think you do, Eames. You can't pass as a dancer in jeans, but you don't seem to have many skirts, let alone dresses."

"That's because I don't wear them."

"Well—?"

"What would a beginning dancer wear?"

"Usually she would wear a free-flowing skirt. Match that with a top that allows for movement and comfortable shoes with at least a slight heel and ankle support. The shoes you have. And the top. But—"

"I'll see what my sister has. What time would we leave?"

"I'll come by at 7:30."

"See you then." Bobby left Alex sitting on the side of her bed with a glass of ice water in her hand. Was this…? No, wait. What _is_ this? Bobby doing a stakeout, even one that required action, without Deakins' consent? That wasn't like him. Bobby might be impulsive, but it wasn't like him to jump into something like this without backup. She let the matter drop. Sometimes not knowing what went on in his head was safer for everyone. She grabbed her coat and keys and headed off to her sister's house, leaving her ice water on her bedside table in the last rays of the day's sunlight.

A/N: Yay! You're right, D'Onofrio did play Edgar in MIB. And I found out today that he's in Ed Wood, yet another reason I need to see that movie… ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**The Dance**

Alex looked out her apartment window down onto the street just before the clock chimed 7:30. She was antsy and wanted to get this over with. Stakeout sure, fine, no problem. She had gotten use to them. But never the clothing that went with them. Why was she complaining this time though? When was the last time she was allowed to wear this much on a single stakeout? She couldn't remember.

Just then two loud thuds emitted from the outside of her door. She walked over and opened it to a shivering and wet Bobby Goren. "You're going to want a jacket. I-It's freezing out there." She turned to retrieve a trench coat from her bedroom, but he put a hand on her shoulder stopping her, giving her the once over. Her feet were covered by dainty black dress shoes, the calves were bare until just below her knees where a satiny A-line skirt fell. He completed the evaluation by taking in her light blue top with a neck line lower than he'd ever seen her wear willingly, over which she pulled a grey sweater tighter as if to keep out the cold. He looked at her, but she avoided his eyes. He let her go.

Damn, tonight was going to be difficult, he could tell. He had told her how to dress, but he never expected her to come up with something so…attractive. He wanted to hold her, to protect her from whatever it was that she felt she needed the sweater to fend off, from whatever had made her so distant. But his thoughts were cut short by her return. _She still has the sweater_, he noted as they left.

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They arrived at the club and rushed under the overhang to avoid the rain. _Bobby was right, it is freezing_. Alex was not in the mood to dance. She wasn't angry like she had been earlier, instead she was sad. Maybe it was because she was human, maybe because she was female, or maybe because she was Alex, but she felt sad, almost depressed. Bobby pulled her into the warm club.

She had never expected what she saw. The dance floor was large, she wasn't quite sure how it fit in the building; it hadn't looked that large when they were outside. And there were lights of all colors. It reminded her of most night clubs, but looked more like lights they used in a theater. The music was loud, but didn't have the techno beat that usually came with a club. Instead the music was organized and clear—but it still made her want to move. She had never heard anything like it. But what really surprised her were the people. Everyone on the dance floor was moving in a structured but free-flowing manner. Each couple acted as though they were the only two people in the room, but somehow, amazingly, none of the couples seemed to run into each other, as if they were each on their own track and were timed to miss the others.

She had never seen anything like it and the unexpectedness of it all made her pause as she took in the sight before her. Bobby took the dress coat from off of her shoulders and checked it in with his own. Taking her hand he led her to the floor. "Keep your eyes open for anyone you recognize, I never got a good look at either of the other two." She nodded and he pulled her in to start dancing. He let her get into the Waltz slowly, waiting for her to remember the basic three count, the whole time trying to identify any face he could. The song ended and Eames left. He didn't stop her, realizing that she was distracted. Instead he followed her, wondering what was wrong now. "Eames…"

"I miss it. I miss having a family, knowing that someone is depending on you. When I was with my sister today, I saw my little nephew. He's so much bigger now; it's amazing just knowing where he came from. It…It makes me wonder what could have happened had my husband not been killed. I only faintly remember what it's like to wake up with someone beside me. And I-I want…"

"You want that again." He finished for her. She nodded in silent agreement but didn't look at him.

"I'm sorry. Go, dance. I'll look from here. I don't think spinning around will help me identify the people we're looking for." He looked at her—a blank stare, but she knew what it meant. "Go Bobby, have fun." Her voice was sad, but firm.

Hesitantly he left her and moved back to the dance floor, but he didn't dance. Instead he stood to the side and digested what she had said. She was right, it had been a long time since her husband died. They hadn't known each other at the time, but he had heard about the incident. He lingered on the subject only as often as she mentioned it, basically never. Their relationship was one of the present. Being partners didn't mean they needed to know about each other's past, but more their present state of being and the immediate future. And from the outside perspective, they had an ideal partnership. But on the inside—Goren was beginning to think that the walls of their partnership were going to fall at any moment. Eames didn't need a partner right now—she needed a friend.

"Hey there big guy! Wanna dance?" He looked up to see a tall blond woman standing before him. He didn't have time to puzzle over what she had said before her arms were around him and they were dancing. Not to be thought of as slow or rude, Goren took over the lead, letting the music wash over him, replacing the thoughts still wandering around in his mind.

_When the marimba rhythms start to play,_

_Dance with me, make me sway,_

_Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore,_

_Hold me close, sway me more._

Alex looked up, upset with herself for being so depressed in such a happy place. Determined to postpone her reminiscing, she looked for Bobby, easily spotting him dancing with a striking blond. At least she thought it was Bobby, but the Bobby she knew never moved like that.

_Like a flower bending in the breeze,_

Bend with me, sway with ease. 

_When we dance you have a way with me _

_Stay with me, sway with me._

Together, as a couple, Bobby and the woman danced, seemingly joined at the hip. The movements were so sensual that Alex couldn't help but be entranced by their closeness. _Bobby's never this comfortable around anyone!_ She was admittedly stupefied by the dance before her.

_Other dancers may be on the floor,_

_Dear, but my eyes will see only you._

_Only you have that magic technique,_

_When we sway I go weak._

Suddenly her view of Bobby was cut off. "Care to dance?" A smooth voice interrupted her gaze and she looked up to see a man with sharp, dark features staring down at her. She stood, and he took her hand as he led her to the dance floor. _What am I doing?_ Not even sure what dance this was, she could feel her body move, following the lead of the man before her.

_I can hear the sound of violins_

_Long before it begins._

_Make me thrill as only you know how,_

_Sway me smooth, sway me now._

She could feel the music consume her fears and control her body. This was no ordinary dance. She moved with the man before her as though the world was falling apart around them and their only hope was each other. She looked into his eyes, dark and strong but so full of passion that she couldn't see anything. She could feel the contours of his body as his moved against hers; heat enveloping her state of mind.

_Sway me, take me,_

_Thrill me, hold me,_

_Bend me, ease me,_

_You have a way with me._

Goren looked up as he lead the blond into a turn. Eames wasn't on the sidelines anymore; she was dancing! It was so smooth, so elegant, so…arousing. The man she was with was obviously Latino, he probably grew up with dances like this, and it showed. He was fantastic. Their dance took the music to a new level, it was no longer just "Sway with me."

_Other dancers may be on the floor,_

_Dear, but my eyes will see only you._

_Only you have that magic technique,_

_When we sway I go weak._

I go weak! 

Alex couldn't look away, nor did she want to. Entranced by the movement, she had lost every thought, every feeling. She needed to keep dancing. She needed the feeling, the rush of being needed in the most intimate of ways.

_I can hear the sounds of violins,_

_Long before it begins._

_Make me thrill as only you know how,_

_Sway me smooth, sway me now. _

_Sway me._

_Sway me._

_Sway me now._

As the song ended, the dark man let go of Alex and she fell out of her trance. She was warm and sweating but loved everything about it. She looked up at the dark eyes once again, more conscious of the world around her. Just as recognition hit both his eyes and hers, "Eames! Are you—?" Bobby had rushed over and, upon noticing the look passing between his partner and the other man, pulled Eames aside.

The next song started up. Goren wrapped his arms around Eames and they started moving to the slow beat. "Eames, I-I…Well…"

"Well what? And what was that Bobby? You looked so different when you were dancing."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you looked…" She paused, not knowing quite how to say it without hurting his feelings. "…so much more…alive."

He looked at her, questioning what she had just said. "So did you." His gaze returned to where it had been before. Alex realized he was trying to avoid her eyes, and, wanting to think for herself, she looked away too.

_Oh, why did I say that to him? I know he can be sensitive! Great, look what you've gotten yourself into Alex. Way to go…_

_Shit, I hope she didn't take that the wrong way. Well, maybe I do. Shit! No, no, no! It's not true! I just, I just need someone to…to…_

_He _did_ look more alive though; there's no other way to put it. Oh, but not just alive, he was…no, not going to think that. Ah hell, it was sexy._

_But the way they moved together. Gah! Stop thinking Goren or she might feel your thoughts. Damn, that would be embarrassing…_

"Eames, if you ever need anything, I'll-I'll be there…as a friend." She smiled at that and suddenly Goren knew everything would be alright. She was genuinely happy and it shown through more that just her smile—for the first time she relaxed. He took advantage of her calm state and pulled her into a hug, ending their dance.

The music picked up again. "Your husband is such a great dancer. May I cut in again?" The blonde woman was back. Alex smiled, almost laughing, lifting her hand, raising her palm toward the woman in a gesture that said, "Go ahead." She watched them move off as she slowly headed to the side ripping the sweater from her warm body exposing her shoulders. She recognized the Tango and tried to pick up the rhythm while looking for the man she had been dancing with. She didn't know who he was; at least she thought she didn't. But that face seemed so familiar. Where had she seen it before? She felt something brush up behind her at that moment but before she could turn to investigate, the world turned black.

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Sorry this chapter took a bit longer, but it's almost twice as long! By the way, the song is called "Sway." I used the lyrics by The Pussycat Dolls, but the Michael Bublé version is also very sexy… Oh, and if there are any mistakes, for instance the death of Alex's husband, let me know and I'll try to change it. I've only seen a few episodes from seasons four and five and nothing else so I've picked up most of the background info from the internet. I turn 18 today, woohoo!


	6. Chapter 6

**Arrival**

Cold. Hard. Rough. Pain. Sharp, then dull. Pounding. So cold. So very cold. Then it came back. The heat, the music, the rush—the dance. _Ahhh!_ Agonizing. But there was nothing. Not a sound. Not even a coherent thought. _Shit._

The sweater was gone, replaced by cold. Even in the dark, it was nowhere to be found. Instead she tried to wrap her arms around herself, realizing she couldn't move. The feeling of depression came back. She wanted someone, anyone, to just hold her—make her feel wanted. But no, now there wasn't even a boring grey sweater inherited from her grandmother to fend off the demands of isolation. She was by herself, completely alone. _Now I know how Bobby feels when we part for the night._ She shivered, understanding now why vacation time was a horror for her partner.

A creaking noise. A dim light floated in from another room casting shadows on the objects around her. A silhouette stepped forward, closing the door behind it, blocking the light. "Ahhh!" Escaped from her as she bowed her head to the light that had just been directed at her face. She prevented herself from showing any more signs of weakness. She would not give in to the situation. She would be saved soon. Bobby would know something was wrong, and Deakins wouldn't sit behind his desk either. She just had to deal with the now.

"This is how I knew you." A ruffling of papers was heard just before a dozen or so newspaper clippings ended their flight path by knocking into her face. Reluctantly she squinted to see what he was talking about. Headlines mentioned names and phrases like "Detectives Goren & Eames," "Major Case Squad," "Captain James Deakins." She was even able to glance at a picture of her and her partner standing by Deakins as he explained a case in a press conference before the light was too much to bear. "That was your partner, wasn't it?" She didn't respond, why give the enemy more information to use against her? He grabbed her chin, pulling her face close to his. "Hello again, Detective Alexandra Eames. You danced well last night. Was that your first time?" She resisted the urge to spit in his face. While she wouldn't comply with his demands, she didn't think it was wise to piss him off more. He threw her face away causing a painful sensation in her neck as her body couldn't follow. "It was last night for you anyway, three days ago for me." He let that sink in. Three days? It had been three days! _Fuck!_ All the hope she had faded fast. After the first 48 hours, chances dropped dramatically for any case be it theft, murder, rape and especially kidnapping. He started laughing at her reaction—a crackling laugh, one that would cause young children to hide under the covers and grown adults to grab the phone in hopes that 911 would be pressed before the laugh could become anything more.

"I've asked you two questions Detective, answer me." She sat, stone cold. Unable to see from the light, she didn't notice the fist connecting with the right side of her jaw. She let out a gasp of pain. "Well? Are you going to answer now?" This time she did spit at him, only now it was blood. "No? Then we need to try a little more convincing." This time she saw his foot swing into her side, but for all her wriggling, she couldn't stop it. All the air her small frame could carry was shoved from her as pain rapidly took its place. "Hm, yes, it has been a few hours." He stood up and turned his back only to reappear with an injection needle. "This is quick and does the job. You don't move or struggle, and I have your complete attention. When laced with other plants, it will place anyone in a deep sleep. That, my dear Alex, is how you arrived here." She felt like gagging, _Your dear Alex? Bite me!_ Again struggling against what was left of her "restraints" she tried to avoid the inevitable. But he was strong and not tied down with drugs. As the needle entered her arm, she could feel her body relax, and then grow numb while her mind seemed to rush with all the adrenaline her body could produce. "Are you going to fight now?" Receiving little more than a glare from his captive, the man went on. "For being such a good girl, both on the dance floor and right now, I will tell my story first. Then you can tell me what I want to know. I grew up in a small, poor family. We had emigrated from Panama when I was a young boy. We were lucky enough to find work in a small town in California working for a nursery. Year after year my family and I would plant seeds, tend the plants, harvest the goods and prepare them for sale.

"Five years after arriving in America, my mother ran off. Her 'passion,' as she called it, was not in flower arranging, but in opera. There, she claimed, she could finally be herself. Her selfishness hurt us financially. We couldn't afford our home so we moved, everywhere. But there was no work. We returned, little work was better than no work.

"My sister was in an accident just before our mother left. In fact, she was with our mother when it happened. They were crossing a highway to get to work one day and she got hit. That's when my mother ran off. I think it had more to do with the guilt of hurting her only daughter than it did with opera, but she was still gone. And so was her pay. Crystal died three weeks into her coma. We didn't have the money to pay for her hospital bills. My brother and I never forgave her.

"By the age of twelve I had started making drugs for the local kids hoping to gain more money for what was left of the family. First I grew marijuana in hidden places at the nursery. Then I learned how to make opium from the poppies. From there it grew. I left high school knowing not only the fine art of agriculture, but also the art of narcotics." _Had Bobby only found this guy about seven years ago, he would have had a field day._

"I left California to seek my own life away from the disgust the nursery brought me. What farther place from California could I go but New York. That is how _I_ arrived here. My brother followed. Soon we found out what our mother had been doing with her life—opera. Somehow she managed to make herself famous. It was all I could do from stalking her down to show her what she had left for her daughter. But Marcos had better plans. It wasn't just her, but the whole opera community, who had killed our sister. Without them, she would have had nowhere to run too.

"Marcos would build little bombs in the fields growing up. His fascination with pyrotechnics enticed him to help out with the fireworks committee. Soon he knew what damage gun powder, chemicals, and heat could do. He was the bomb expert of our group. Gabriella was our ticket in. She worked at several of the theaters as part of the crew and convinced her boss to give us jobs. In exchange, we became her partners. On both the dance floor and in bed. She had been so alone in life and she was aching for any and all human contact. And you feel that same ache, don't you?" He left her on that note.

_What was he implying there? That I wanted to become his partner? No, thank you, one is enough. Shit Alex, get yourself together. Fight the drugs, you have to. You're not tied up, there are no cuffs on your wrists, you have to get out! You have to! Everyone's going to wonder what happened. Bobby— Oh shit, how is Bobby going to handle this? He barely got through the last time we were separated, and then at least we saw each other! Alex! Stay awake, for Bobby…for Bobby…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disappearance**

The song ended just as Bobby dipped the blond, voluptuous woman. Sweating and smiling, he extracted himself from her arms. "Save another dance for me, would ya?" She said with a wink. He nodded and turned to rest on the sidelines with Eames. But she wasn't where he'd left her. Not to be daunted, he slipped outside of the warm club for some cool air.

As he walked through the double doors, he was hit with a shocking cold. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and the rain had turned into hail. He let the biting cold eat away at the sticky feeling on his skin. Sighing, he looked for his partner but she wasn't there either. _That's odd._ He knit his brows and turned back inside.

He looked all over, even watching the door to the women's bathroom. But Eames wasn't there. He walked back onto the dance floor, purposely avoiding the strong-headed woman he had been dancing with. Walking over to where Eames had been waiting, he paused. Tilting his head, he began looking around, his detective skills taking over. Nothing, just nothing. There was no indication that she had ever been there, no sign of her.

Hiding the fear beginning to overcome his confusion, he made his way to the front desk and handed the lady the tickets to pick up Eames' and his coats. She walked into the back looking for the requested clothing. _Oh please. She took her coat, and went home. Must have. There's no other—_ With a soft _thud_ the same lady dropped not just one, but two coats onto the desk. Bobby's eyes went wide only for a fraction of a second before he picked up both coats and ran for the door.

Ignoring the cold and the hail, Bobby ran frantically looking in every direction his head would move. "Eames! Eames!" The hail blocked every view. He couldn't see the sidewalk ahead of him, nor the people huddled under the awnings. Still running, he tripped and crashed to the ground. He wouldn't have given it a second thought, but the cause of his fall caught his eye. Grabbing it, he sheltered the grey material with his body. _It's hers. No, can't be. She-she wouldn't leave it… She wouldn't. Not like her. She's not right, not okay._

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_Bobby. What?_ Alex suddenly gained consciousness as the thought of Bobby flooded her dreams. Still unable to move from the drugs, she resisted the temptation to struggle and instead looked around the room some more.

The light had been turned off, but a faint gleam of light came through the door that the man had entered through before. She let her eyes wonder the rest of the room. There was one chair, a few pillars and several packing boxes lined against the wall. Wherever she was, it wasn't up to date; everything was made of wood. A perfect fire hazard.

After settling that no one was in the room with her, she tried to move, just to test out the freedom that had so recently been taken from her. It was all she could do not to cry out. The drugs had worn off enough that she could roll on her side, but the injuries he had inflicted had just enough time to settle into a hidden pain. She looked up after a moment. _What—Oh Dear God!_ Two dark eyes looked back at her. It took her another beat to notice that they belonged to a man; not the man she had seen before, but a new one. He got up and walked over to her. Bending down to her level, he let his breath caress her face. "Hello there."

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Carver sat in Deakins' office, discussing their newest case. "I find it rather odd that these people go to such great lengths to take down a theater."

"I know what you mean. They have other options, but why go through all the hassle of bombs?" Deankins raised his hand silencing Carver for a moment as he pulled out his cell phone. "Deakins."

Carver couldn't make out who was on the phone (he isn't a detective after all) but he could hear a frantic male voice and, judging by the increasingly distressed look on Deakins face, something was wrong. Deakins put the phone down slowly and looked up to Carver with painfully pleading eyes. "What's wrong?" Carver's usually smooth voice was cut sharply with concern—he had never seen Deakins this distressed.

"Eames has been kidnapped." Deakins shuddered. _What? Why! She was at home, resting— Who's out to get her? She— She doesn't—_ At that point Deakins broke and it was all to obvious to Carver that Deakins loved his detective maybe a little more than he should. "B-Bobby's coming over now. He needs help, back up, a plan…" Deakins gave up. The idea that one of his detectives wasn't safe had overtaken his mind and nothing else could get it.

"Jimmy." Deakins' head shot up as Carver reached over the desk and put his hand comfortingly on his arm.

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"Marcos! Marcos!" The man in front of her suddenly looked up toward the door. The grin that had looked at her with a sick pleasure was now downcast as if a child's favorite toy was taken from him. He growled and stood up, leaving her struggling for the breath she hadn't noticed she had been holding.

The door opened quickly and he walked out, slamming it behind him. There were no audible words that she could make out, but the anger and hatred were obvious. "You can't do that! What kind of shit do you think you can get us in!" The door shook violently as a loud _bang_ emitted from it. A physical argument ensued. She could hear punches being thrown and grunts as the two fought. A scream mixed with the sounds of broken bone. One last dull _thud_ and a final _crash_. The scuffle was over.

The victor opened the door again, revealing the weaker party unconscious in the hall. Marcos walked back in the room; he was the younger, but obviously the stronger of the two brothers. He walked back over to her and once again placed his face next to hers. Blood dripped from his nose onto her forehead and cheeks, covering her in a warm liquid that, up until now, had never made her sick. He reached his hand up and brushed back the hair that so often fell in her face. "He can't stop us now."

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I have an idea for where this is headed (finally) but it is _extremely_ dark. Let me know if you're ok with that. It's the kind of thing that's going to make me seem like a sadist, but that's where my idea headed (it has a mind of its own, I swear!) So please let me know if I have the artistic license to do that kind of thing!


	8. Chapter 8

Fluffy-CSI, I like your idea, but sadly, I started this chapter before I saw it. And for everyone else, I didn't go into the actual event—just it's aftermath. For that matter, I didn't even hit on that in this chapter; you'll have to wait for the next one.

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**The Interview**

Bobby stumbled into the Bullpen just as Deakins was leaving his office. They both looked up and made eye contact. Bobby's sad eyes pleaded for forgiveness while Deakins' exposed how dumbstruck he actually was. They stayed that way for a moment; the two men who had never quite gotten along were finally beginning to connect over something they felt was far too drastic to be real.

Logan walked up, intent on asking Deakins a question, but noticed the connection between the two. He looked from one to the other before butting in. "What kind of alternate universe are you two in?" It broke the spell. Both men looked away, one ashamed, the other emotionally lost, both grief stricken.

Carver walked over. With a slight nod from Deakins, he pulled Logan aside and explained the situation. The look on Logan's face was one to be remembered. Never in his history of working with the police department had Carver ever seen such an expression of disbelief.

Logan snapped out of his stupor, looked up at Carver, then over at Deakins and Bobby neither of which had moved much since he had last looked at them. Without hesitation, he walked over to his captain, and brought a hand down on his shoulder shocking Deakins out of his staring contest with the floor. "What can I do to help?" This wasn't in character for Logan and Deakins knew it. Logan was trying to keep his ass at Major Case, not stick his neck out for a detective he never talked to. Then again, when a fellow cop is in need, staying in character is never the foremost thought.

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"Come on." Logan said as he walked up to his desk.

"Wha—?" Berak hadn't been informed, but there didn't seem to be time for that. Eames was missing and their only hope in finding her was an intimidating man who tended to turn in on himself. In fact, the only person he ever opened up to was the one currently missing. This was going to be one hell of a wild goose chase.

"Eames is missing—thought kidnapped—and Goren, of all people, is the only one who might know where she is." Berak's normally blank face softened for a moment before she turned and took the situation into her own hands.

"Bobby, could you come here please?" He ambled over and she led him into an interview room. Logan followed behind them but stayed in the corner. Let her handle it; putting Goren and Logan together usually ended up in a worse situation.

Both Bobby and Berak sat down at the table which held only a tape recorder. Logan leaned against a wall, lost in the shadows. Bobby was shaking; one hand tried to hide his face but it shook so much that it wasn't worth the effort. Berak grabbed it. "Bobby, calm down. We'll never get anywhere if you're this agitated."

"You-you're right. I-I need to ca-calm down." He looked up at a corner and then his body followed. He paced around his side of the room before beginning. "Deakins had ordered her to stay at home. She…she wasn't sleeping well. I knew that she was stressed and needed to have some fun…but I also knew that—that she was even more aggravated by the fact that she wasn't working. So I…so I invited her to go dancing under the pretext that…that we could look for Gabriella's partners." He said the last bit quickly, purposely not looking at the two-way mirror assuming his captain would be behind it watching him and scrutinizing every word. In fact, only Carver was there to hear the confession. Deakins was still wandering around aimlessly looking for something that could help the situation.

"So you two went dancing. What time was that?"

"7:30…8."

"And where did you go?"

"Uh, Stepping Out Studios on 26th. That-that's where Gabriella and…and…"

"Thank you Bobby, that's good. What did you do there?"

"I got pulled onto the floor and when I looked back, she had to. Some tall, dark, skinny man. A-about, 5'11", black hair, tan skin. He danced well, looked…Latino. White shirt…black pants…When the song ended, he talked to her, but I came up and pulled her away. I had this…this feeling. Like something wasn't right. I got pulled away again. She insisted that I go dance while she rested on the sidelines. I went back when the song was over, but she was gone. I-I looked…all over. Went to get her coat, just to see if she had gone. But it was…it was still there. I ran…outside to look for her. Couldn't see…too much hail. But I fell…it-it was her sweater…"

There was a long silent pause before Berak broke in. "Where is this sweater now, Bobby?"

"At my apartment…on-on the bed."

"We're going to need that; there's still a chance of trace evidence." Logan stepped out of the shadows and looked at Bobby who nodded listlessly.

"Thank you Bobby. What you've said has given us a good start. We'll let you know what's happening as often as we can." Berak stood up, threw a look at her partner and walked out the door.

Logan started after her, but paused at the door. "I'm sorry for what happened." He whispered before he left Bobby alone.

Alone—again. It seemed Bobby was always alone, except when he was with Alex. She might not know exactly what he was thinking, but at least she was there. She wasn't here now, not mentally or physically. Bobby was utterly alone in the cold, concrete interview room. There was one table, four chairs, a window… Even the tape recorder had been taken out when Berak had left.

It had been hard. Only Alex's disappearance got him talking. He knew they needed all information in order to find her. Normally he wouldn't have said much—just what was necessary. But this was Alex, and she was gone. And it was his fault. He shouldn't have taken her on a stake out without prior consent. He should have called for backup. He should have done so many things differently. He shouldn't have taken her dancing. He shouldn't have gotten so close to her. And he shouldn't have started falling for her. That was his greatest mistake.

He knew she could be ripped from his life at any moment. Get close to your partner professionally, even personally yes, but never emotionally. And _don't_ depend on them. Trust them and help them. But never let them become your only lifeline. Too many things can go wrong. There are bullets, and bad guys, politics and retirement. He had gotten too close, too emotionally tied. Now he was paying for it.

Still standing in the interview room, he threw his fists against the wall over and over again, screaming and crying out at each lung. Soon he tired out and fell to the floor crying. And for once, Carver who had looked on at the whole ordeal actually shed a tear for his opponent.


	9. Chapter 9

I looked back through all the reviews I've gotten for this story and realized that I have a few comments for you guys. 1) Wow, I don't think this story is very good actually. Just go back and read the first chapter and then the most recent one and you'll see a completely different (and shallower) writing style. I think it's because I don't have any clue where this story is headed. Usually I write the whole thing and then post it instead of making up the next part as I post it. 2) Sw33tangelgrl, yes I can dance. And I suggest everyone go out and try it! It's great stuff! 3) Franta, I agree at the beginning this wasn't an angsty story, but I think it qualifies to be put back in that category. What do you think? 4) As for me being a sadist, well, I feel cheesy when I write it (especially now that my suitemates want to beta it and I've never had a beta-er) but writing it is better than doing it, right? 

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**Aftermath**

Alex rolled over and curled as much as she could into a ball. The pain she had expected would have been isolated reached throughout her entire body. It pounded from her core and enveloped every part of her. She was sore and aching. Blood pooled slowly around her from the force he had used on her delicate frame. But it wasn't the physical pain that got to her.

She had been raised strong. She even silently prided herself in her ability to let emotional attacks roll off of her. It's what made her so good when she was in vice. Say anything to her and in no time at all she was perfectly fine. People would whisper that nothing could get her down. So she needed a little pick-me-up every so often, but that usually consisted of a night in and a movie or a good book. Nothing much.

But this was different. She never thought that there could be a pain this bad. It was so encompassing and intense. _So this is what it feels like. _She was emotionally spent and she could tell that she wasn't going to recuperate for a long time. Maybe even never. _God, how do they live?_ In all honesty, she didn't know how she had lived this far through it.

She knew it wouldn't end here though. She was still a captive in this hellhole and he was still lurking about. He could return at any moment and do it all over again. The source of her pain was still walking around while she was crumpled on the floor, no longer by drugs, but by shear shock and pain. She had no defense. She was there only as his toy, something to be used on a whim. She couldn't think like that though. She couldn't think at all.

She should have been cold lying amongst torn clothing in the dark room. But she wasn't. The pounding that controlled her body brought along with it a fiery warmth that did nothing to quell her discomfort. Her body retched and writhed but nothing came of it. None of the physical or emotional pain was lessened. But she couldn't stop. It disgusted her. _He_ disgusted her. The whole notion, though she thought it had disgusted her before she became a victim, was unbearable. That it happened, that one person could do this to another, was beyond all logical thought. Was there anything worse than murdering someone and asking them to live on afterwards? To rip out someone's soul and ask them to keep feeling? No. And now she knew why.

_How do they live? How do they live!_ She wanted to cry out, to add sound to her silent tears. The salty liquid from her eyes mixed with the dried blood he had left on her face adding to the horror of the situation. Anyone who would have walked in would probably instantly think of her as dead. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be found alive. There seemed to be no hope left. No reason to live.

She groaned in fear as the door burst open revealing the silhouette of a man. He paused for a moment, as if shocked by the sight in front of him. "Fuck! That bastard! How many? How many times!" She looked at him blankly, cowering under his anger. "How many goddamn times!" She managed a pitiful release of sound before his patience gave up. "Fuck him. Fuck him! He never understood, _never!_"

Marcos entered, curious as to the shouting coming from the room he had left not half an hour before. He jeered as he looked over at her. Fear flooded what was left of her soul as his spirit-eating stare penetrated her core. She could feel it all over again.

_He grazed his hands over her face, warm red blood oozing from his nose falling on her skin, taking his sweet time trying to get her to enjoy the torture. She tried to move, but he was too much, too strong. He straddled her and slowly began taking off his clothes all the while never letting her eyes break from his._

_They were dark eyes. Strong and terrifying. They made her need to look away, but try as she might, she couldn't. They would come closer to her as he leaned in to kiss her, or bite her, still never breaking contact. She barely noticed the hands groping her curves as he moved his way down to her core. His tongue moved over her skin, lapping up the sweat as it beaded from her pores. Rough, hot breath cascaded around her bare shoulders, moving down over her exposed chest. And yet, it was still the eyes that made her beg for the ordeal to finish quickly._

_Time seemed to stand still while it all took place. She never knew how long he was there—how long it actually took him to destroy her. He enjoyed every minute of it, promising that it could happen again and again, as long as she was there for him. Promising that each time would be better and more powerful than the last._

_When he first entered, she had found the strength to scream. He slapped her. The world spun but he pulled her back, wanting her to feel every moment of the sensation. He laughed at her fear, telling her it would be better if she just let it go. "Fear has no place in love."_

The time he took to look at her gave his brother a chance to strike. Marcos was shoved violently against a pillar making the room shake. "You bastard! Do you remember what happened to Crystal? Do you even remember Crystal! She was your goddamn sister and you don't remember! Fuck you! You can't do this to her! You can't do this to any woman, ever!" He got quiet all of a sudden and leaned into his brother, whispering in a dark harsh tone. "I will not stand by as you degrade her. She's ours to do with what we will, but I will _not_ have you using her like our sister was used!" He was seething as he walked away, leaving his brother against the pillar.

A slow evil cackle rose up from the depths of Marcos' lungs. "That bitch was good. She was worth breaking whatever fucking moralistic shit you've been following your whole dammed life. Crystal isn't the same. She didn't ask for that. _She_ didn't go looking for trouble. But this whore—"

A gun sounded before either Alex or Marcos knew what happened. Marcos fell back, hitting the pillar before plummeting to the floor. A gurgle escaped his lips followed by blood. He raised his head to his brother as he walked over. Lying on the floor, he smiled one last time before the gun went off again. What was left of his head fell back on the floor, the eyes, still open, stared back at Alex, grinning in sadistic delight.


	10. Chapter 10

Damn, distressed Bobby is hard. Sorry I couldn't keep him in character, but I think it gets better when he gets mad. Well, find out for yourself.

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** The Call **

"Why do you stay with this man?" _Damn, she's good._ Logan would never have thought that this…slightly distracted ex-FBI agent could ever connect with a perp this fast. And yet here she was, consoling Gabriella and extracting information from her.

"He's good to me. His brother, Marcos, is wild, takes what he wants when he wants. But Diego stops him."

"Gabriella, Diego beats you. He uses you."

"Yes. But…you understand though. I can see it in your eyes." What? Where was this coming from? Berak had never hinted to Logan about something like this. The only one without a traumatized background—yeah right. "It is better to stay with one who beats you and loves you, than to be hunted down and used. Diego saves me from his brother, from Marcos."

Berak nodded; it could have been a nod of understanding, or it could have been a show. Logan watched from the far corner wondering how he was going to approach this subject with his partner later on. "If you were to run, where would Marcos take you? Where would Diego look for you?"

"I know what you're asking for. That woman who caught me, she's gone isn't she?" Wide, fearful dark brown eyes looked up at Berak who sighed and looked down.

"Yes."

"I will answer your questions. I know what she's going through—what we've been through—it's not good. There is an old wooden house up state. Marcos took me there one weekend. Diego was furious, beat the shit out of him, and then me for letting him take me."

There was a knock from the window causing all three of the interview room's occupants to look up. "Thank you Gabriella. We'll return to ask you more about this soon." The tall lanky woman nodded as Berak stood and walked out of the room with her partner.

"What was that all about?" But Berak waved him off as they stepped into the presence of ADA Carver.

"This isn't going to be enough to find Detective Eames. Gabriella obviously doesn't know where this place is anymore than we do." Carver let go a breath before hanging his head, hands still in pockets. Berak sighed again and rubbed her forehead with her hand. This was going to be difficult.

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Logan and Berak walked back to their desks, passing by Bobby who didn't bother to look up. "I actually pity the poor man." Logan said as they sat down.

"Don't let him hear that; he'll never forgive you." As usual, Berak didn't look at Logan while sharing the information. When she didn't hear a response, she ventured a look at his perplexed face. "I'm a profiler, I'm suppose to know these kinds of things." _As if that explains it…_ Logan thought to himself while rolling his eyes.

At his desk, Bobby, who usually would have heard the comment and stored it away for later use, stared at Eames' chair. He could only remember one other time when he wasn't sure if she would ever sit there again. It had to be one of the most anxiety-ridden parts of his life. Now was worse though, he couldn't stop by after work to visit. Hell, he couldn't even work!

All of a sudden Bobby was distracted from his thoughts by the bright ring of his cell phone. He instructively picked it up. "Goren…Eames!"

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Diego had not been happy by any means. Not only had his little brother beaten him up and then soiled their sister's name yet again, but now Diego had to deal with Marcos' body. It was always the same, Marcos would screw everything, or for that matter everyone, up and then leave an even bigger problem for his brother to deal with.

Diego had had enough. He wanted his partner back and didn't want to have to worry about the lady on his floor. "Wake up!" He snarled as he shoved his foot into her ribs. The body on the floor moaned and shifted before raising its head to look at him. "Here's what you're gonna do if you want to get out of here alive. Call your partner and demand that he release Gabriella. Tell him I'm willing to trade." He tossed a phone at her. It barely missed her nose as it fell to the floor. "And put it on speakerphone, I want to hear his guilt for losing you."

_Fucking sadist._ Alex thought as she unwound an arm from her abdomen to grab the phone.

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Berak's head shot up at sound coming from Bobby. He had barely moved in the past hour, let alone talked. But it was his words and his expression that got her moving. She ran over to where he was sitting stunned and grabbed the phone from his hands. Running into the next room, she attached the phone to a tracker and put it on speakerphone before Bobby had the chance to react and run after her.

"Eames! Eames I'm sorry! You were there and then…then you were-were gone!"

"Bobby, shut up." Bobby stopped, stunned that his partner had just told him to shut up. She went on, her voice sounding weaker than he had ever heard. "I've been kidnapped and he wants to trade—me for Gabriella."

Berak shook her head before Bobby could say anything. It was against policy, you never just released an attempted murderer back on the streets. Bobby was at a loss for words, he desperately wanted to see his partner again, but he knew Berak was right. He stood in front of the phone for several moments, the beginnings of words coming from his mouth but never terminating into a coherent thought.

"Bobby, I'm sorry…Bobby? Say something!"

"I…I want you back."

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"I know, Bobby." During the entire conversation Alex was only half paying attention to the exchange of words. The other half of her mind was more concerned with Diego who had squatted next to her in order to both hear the full conversation and persuade her to say what he wanted Bobby to know.

There were several more moments of silence before Diego prompted her again. "Ask him what he's going to do." He whispered.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do about Gabriella?" God Alex wanted to smack Diego. She knew there was no way in hell Gabriella was getting out anytime soon, not even to save her life. And yet, here she was, having to ask like a young girl thinking she could get away with the impossible. Instead, she just glared at him, still unable to gather the strength to do such a physical feat.

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This time Berak was still. Alex needed hope, but it felt wrong to lie to her. Especially when she knew full well the answer.

More silence. No one knew what to say though all four of them knew what needed to be said.

Berak looked back at the screen. "We've got a location!" She said as she jumped from her chair and ran to get Logan.

Bobby, having forgotten that she was in the room, looked up.

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"We've got a location!"

"Shit! He has one of those trackers?" Alex, though hiding it from her current company, was amused. They knew where she was and probably weren't spending any time to come get her. "Fuck!"

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"You were listening in the whole time? What do you think you're doing? Why did you take her? She's not a good that can be bartered with!" Bobby continued yelling at the phone, hoping that whatever man had just been listening to their conversation was still listening in.

He paused long enough to hear words and then a thud. Another few moments brought the sound of a dial tone. The connection had died.

"Alex!"

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"Goddamn. This fucks everything up." Now she was scared again. Seeing Marcos crazy was one thing but after seeing him get killed by his brother, Alex wasn't going to put anything passed the mad man before her. "I can't keep you." He said, eyes glaring at her with a hatred she had never seen making her fear for her life. He swung around, purposely letting his foot swing into the side of her head. Then he picked up the phone, closed it and walked out of the room leaving the unconscious woman on the floor next to the dead body of his brother.


	11. Chapter 11

Woohoo! All the motivation from the…counts on fingers…zero reviews I got for the last chapter. I would have thought someone would have had a reaction. Maybe I just have to try harder… (Or maybe I just scared away my reviewers with chapter 9, sorry.) Well, we'll see what happens.

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**Orange Hope Amongst Grey Defeat**

The early morning was cold and quiet. One stray orange tabby walked across the sidewalk to a puddle of water, lapping up the cold liquid from the previous night's rain. It ran off just as a dirty white truck pulled up along the curb, splashing the water over where the cat had been.

A man, dressed in dark, baggy clothes jumped from the driver's side and, without turning off the car or closing the door, went around to the back of the truck. He pulled a large, dark bundle of what looked like old coats from the truck bed and dumped it on the stairs just across the sidewalk with a loud thud. He jumped back in the truck and drove off.

The cat, having watched this sequence from a small tree not too far away, wandered over to the bundle. He sniffed it but it smelled like any bundle of clothing left on the street. He found a crook in the arm of a coat and settled in. The sun would rise in about an hour, and people wouldn't start walking by until shortly after that. He had time to huddle against the warm clothing and relax.

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It had started raining soon after Barek and Logan had left the city. Gabriella had been right—he had taken Alex up state. It took three hours for them to get through the rain and mud up to Ithaca and then through the back roads to the cabin. "Cabin is an overstatement." Logan had said and Barek was inclined to agree. There wasn't much to the rickety structure—only three rooms. Ivy covered the outer walls and spider webs the inner.

The first two rooms, after having been inspected by flashlight, had held nothing much except for small packing boxes and mason jars. Barek moved on, found the light in the hall and turned it on. "There's blood here." In fact there was, though only a little, not enough to be a major wound. It pooled on the wood near a door and splattered against the wall. Much of it had already seeped into the grain. With Logan right behind her, Barek pushed open the last door.

Inside were the same packing boxes, each one full of empty mason jars. There were the same spider webs and the walls and floor were made of the same old wood. But there was an air of difference, something dark and foreboding. Near the center of the room, next to a small wooden pillar, lay another pile of blood. This one was larger and hadn't had a chance to completely seep through the boards. A few feet away, looking on at the infusion of blood in wood, lay the body of a man.

Barek shivered. "You ok?" Logan asked.

"Um, yeah." But she didn't look it. She her eyes averted from him and continued surveying the room with silent alarm. It must have been something that only woman intuition could pick up on.

Logan pulled out his radio. "Detective Eames is not, I repeat, not here. Send up a team. We have a body."

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Carver had slept lightly all night. With his case early the next morning and Detective Eames' disappearance there was enough on his mind that he couldn't relax. Frustrated with staying in bed, he had gotten up extremely early and had decided to head to the Courthouse to fuss over some insignificant details of the case.

With the extra time at his disposal and all the things to worry about floating around his head, he had decided to walk to work. It really wasn't all that far; his wife had been nagging that he should start walking to work more often anyways. He grabbed his dark three quarter length trench coat and walked into the biting morning air. Winter had come, he could feel it in the chilling air and see it in the threat of snow from above. He placed his hat on his head and proceeded off to the Courthouse.

As he drew within sight of the grand stairway leading up to his destination, he became increasingly aware of an odd shape at the bottom. He knew that New York never slept and that, like every major city, it was full of people living on the street, but they never dared to spend their nights on the Courthouse steps. There were warmer places, most of which offered a better chance for food.

His shoes made clipping sounds as they hit the concrete. The figure at the bottom of the stairs must have heard him as it attempted to roll over but gave up part way through. Instead, an orange tabby, previously hidden, slipped up from behind the figure and ran off. Carver was inclined to ignore the person on the ground and continued on his way up the stairs until he heard a pitiful groan. He turned to look back at the body, expecting to see a bum who had spent the night curled up with a cat for warmth begging for food. What he found however, gave him a considerable shock. There, lying at the base of the Courthouse steps, was none other than Detective Alexandra Eames herself.

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The night had been about as cold as she could remember—not that she could remember much at the time. Diego had knocked her unconscious after her conversation with Bobby and the next thing she knew, she was wrapped tightly in folds of heavy cloth in the back of a truck. She didn't care to think about why or how she was there and instead let her head fall back into the coats and drifted off to a much needed sleep.

She was next woken when the truck stopped. Diego, or someone she had assumed was Diego, gently lifted her from the back of the truck and unceremoniously dropped her on the side of the road as if he was trying to get the loudest noise possible from dropping a pile of books. That fall right there was another bruise just to add to the growing pile of reasons to die right then and there. She remembered the cold well enough that she had expected to just freeze to death before morning. In fact, most of her was hoping for it. And then an unexpected being came along. The cat, the only witness to her uncouth return, had chosen to snuggle up with her for the night giving her both the necessary warmth and love to survive through the morning.

It was the feeling of the cat, her savior, leaving that caused her to wake a third time. It was all too much. The initial loss of hope, the slight rejuvenation at talking with Bobby, the passing of all joy again with the early morning air, the unconditional love from the cat and the final termination of all things that were warm and cheerful as the cat left and the sharp clack of dress shoes entered her already painful head. She groaned aloud, finally giving in to her determination to seem strong on the outside. The clacking stopped and she opened her eyes to look upon the bearer of bad tidings. There stood, looking as confused as she felt, ADA Ronald Carver.


	12. Chapter 12

Oh, haha, I didn't mean to _make_ you guys review. Do so when you want, I'm just too observant sometimes. And no way was I going to kill my favorite character, StrawberryGregLover! I have plans for this one… Buwahahahaha! 

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**Reaction**

Bobby had been passing so long that his captain was ready to yell at him. But Deakins didn't have the heart. Alex had been gone for several days and in that time Bobby had steadily gotten worse. For that matter, so had Deakins. Major Case had effectively shut down with the exception of finding their fellow detective. And now she was in the hospital, though no one had any idea for how long.

"Bobby! Sit down." The larger man looked over at his commanding officer and opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it and sat in the closest chair, one that happened to be across the room. The room was empty except for the two men. Walls were covered in sponged on violet and pale teal paint. Three fake plants filled three corners and rows of maroon chairs promised a comfort that few found. Both men had been in the room for longer than they wanted to admit. Neither had spoken, afraid of vocalizing the fear that was filling the minds of both.

A door near Bobby swung open and a tall woman with short brown hair in a white coat entered. She held in her hand a clipboard and a pen, which she tapped on the board to get the attention of both men. Not that she needed to. "Captain Deakins?"

"Um, yeah." He stood, placing his hands in his pants pockets before taking a few steps forward.

"Detective Eames—"

"Why isn't her family here?" Bobby suddenly stood up, causing the woman to step back in shock. It hadn't dawned on him till that moment, but Alex had a family, one that would have been more that willing to visit her in the hospital, one that would aggravate her to no end with their worry, one that wasn't here.

"She was conscious when she came in. The first thing she did was ask us not to call them. After a few moments of thought, she hesitantly gave us the names James Deakins and Robert Goren, who, I'm assuming is you."

Bobby nodded, still confused but Deakins cut off his thought. "How is she?" His voice was full of worry and he had taken a few more steps forward, this time taking a hand out of his pocket and scratching his head with it.

"Before you ask, she will live, but she is not well. Even after her physical wounds are long healed, I am afraid she will have emotional repercussions."

Bobby's head snapped up, "What!"

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Alex sat in the bed. Not having been comfortable, the nurse had propped it up, but Alex's discomfort didn't ebb. It seemed that she couldn't find a position that was better than another. She wanted to get up and walk out of the hospital, to return to work and her home and ignore the events of the past few days, but she knew she couldn't stand on her own two feet. Once Dr. Mirus had left, she had tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling over and upsetting the nurse on duty.

She was in incredible amounts of pain, but all of it since her encounter with Marcos seemed insignificant. Physical pain was something she chose to ignore. _It dissipates with time, it's pointless to fuss over_. It was the emotional pain that she was worried about, but true to her nature, she tried to push it out of her to remain strong on the front. She was from a strong family, she associated with strong people, she too had to prove her strength even if it meant stifling certain events. She had already decided that few people would ever know all about what had happened—only those few who _really_ needed to know would.

Any moment now, she could expect to see Bobby or Deakins in the doorway, worrying about and fussing over her. It was the last thing she wanted. Maybe if she forgot what had happened, everything could go back to normal. That was what she wanted—normal. She had gotten so use to it, and now it was over. Forever. That was one of many reasons not to call her family—all they ever did was fuss over one person or issue. She didn't know if she could relive it all over again for the police report—let alone her family. She would cross that bridge if she had too, but she would push it off as long as possible first.

A knock disrupted her from her thoughts. Deakins entered alone. "The nurse outside told me you've already tried to escape." He almost laughed but that was before he had gotten a good look at her. "God, Alex…"

"Don't. I'm fine." It had come out more harsh than she had intended, but at least it got her point across.

"I, uh, sorry." There was a heavy pause before he continued. "How are you? Not physically, but…"

"Emotionally?" He nodded. "I'll live."

Their entire conversation was growing more and more strained. Deakins didn't know what to say. "Bobby wants to see you."

"I bet." There was no joy in her voice, he noted. She was obviously not fine, no matter how hard she tried to convince him she was.

"Ok, well… Feel better." And he left. His eyes met Bobby's as the door shut behind him. He let out a sigh, relieving the tension that had built in him during his previous conversation. As Bobby reached forward to go through the door he had just come through, Deakins placed a hand on his arm. "Don't expect…Just be prepared for the worst." There was nothing more to be said. Deakins walked off, ready to go report Alex's well being to the rest of the squad.

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Bobby entered the room, walked over to the chair by her bedside and sat down. He took her hand in his, noticing that it tensed for a moment and then went limp. He squeezed her hand, trying to portray comfort. She never attempted to squeeze back. "Are you ok?"

"Fine." Her voice was bitter now. Cold, almost hateful. Bobby slowed, had he done something wrong? Was being there for her something she didn't want?

"You were…raped." It was almost a question, almost a statement. Bobby had vocalized his thoughts many a time, but never in reference to Eames. She looked away. "Eames? You were raped? The doctor didn't lie?"

"No."

"Eames, you need to let it out, accept—"

"Shut up, Goren. I don't want to hear it."

"Eames—"

"No!" She hadn't looked at him the entire time. Except for her replies and her increasing anger, it seemed as if she hadn't recognized his presence at all.

Bobby stopped talking, as per her request. It wasn't that he was following her orders, but that he knew he couldn't reach her through words. Hers still in his, he rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand. She tried to pull away, her body tensing at his touch, but he wouldn't let go. He brought his other hand to hers, covering it in warmth. He stroked it, hoping she would open up to him.

There was a sound of breath being taken in sharply and a whimper making Bobby look up. Her head had lowered, but it was still turned away from him, her body doing the same. She shivered. "Alex…" She pulled away and tried again to get out of bed, to get away from him. She fell, hard, in her haste. "Alex!" Bobby ran around the bed to her.

She curled up in a ball. When he reached for her shoulder, she jumped away from him and screamed. "Don't, please don't Bobby. Just…just stay there." Fear had overtaken the anger in her tone.

Confused for a moment why his touch would send her screaming, Bobby realized that he had hit on why Alex was hurting so much. She couldn't deal with it, didn't know how and so she was trying to avoid it only to have it build until she exploded. Alex had cuddled against the wall, hiding herself in her arms. "Alex…" She refused to look at him, tears streaming down her face even at her obvious attempt to stop them.

"Do you…do you want me to leave?" She turned his head to look at him, but stopped short of his eyes. He waited several moments for her answer. Slowly, while curling deeper into the protection of the wall, she shook her head.


	13. Chapter 13

**Support**

Alex didn't know how long she was on the floor nor how long she had been dazed. She turned her head and noticed that Bobby was still there, on the floor with her, but he had leaned against some machinery and had fallen asleep. She smiled, glad for a brief moment where she could forget her own woe and appreciate the calm of his face. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him so passive, so unstressed. She wanted to touch his face, in a hope that maybe she could be calmed by his sleep too.

She tried to move closer, to reach a hand out, but a sharp hiss escaped her. She was sore; sitting on the ground had only aggravated her injuries. Ignoring the pain, wanting to bring herself back to something more normal, she slowly made her way within arm's reach of him. Getting up on her knees to both keep the pressure off her hip and see his face better, she traced the lines of his face with her eyes. The dark circles under his eyes were larger, his mouth frowned more than usual causing the lines from his nose down passed his mouth to be deeper. _He doesn't look all that calm_, she decided. But he still looked more placid than she felt.

She reached out a hand, brushed her fingers across his cheek and let the feeling wash over her. She stared at her fingers on his cheek, watched as they traced his nose and forehead, and finally started tracing the lines of age and worry that he had had far beyond his time.

Calm did flow through her body, though it wasn't the contagious calm she had been hoping for. This calm was deeper, and yet more fleeting. It was the calm found when the mind stops rationing like an adult, and explores as a child. She enjoyed this calm, this exploration. Her mind was set adrift amongst tranquil little waves, unable to see land.

"Alex." A hand grabbed hers, gently. "You don't want to be there." How long had his eyes been open, watching her in a world she thought was private? Instinctively, she pulled back, trying to get way from the unprofessional, from the man in her mind, from the man altogether. "That's where I spent my childhood, Alex. It will do you no good to stay there." His hand held hers, not letting her fall away to a more distant place.

"Bobby, I—"

"Alex, you can't just run. You need to fight back. It's hard, I know it is, but you need to do it." Worry was more distinct on his face. "Alex." The spell had been broken. Her eyes lifted up and met his. Through the dark grimace of fear he held for her, he smiled. Fear for herself filled her eyes but she couldn't pull away from him; he was too strong, to determined to keep her with him. He didn't pull back, didn't demand anything from her except that she stay. Neither one of them moved, each one staring into the eyes of the other. One felt an over whelming urge to run, the other, an over whelming urge to pull her closer, but neither acted knowing they would both fail.

Two quick raps on the door and Logan entered, followed quickly by Berak. "Alex?" Logan had yet to notice them on the floor. He was brought to their attention by his partner.

"Bobby, would you mind if I talked to her alone for a minute? You two Logan." Berak looked from one man to the other, slight worry and more pleading shown in her face. Bobby nodded and got up slowly, letting Alex's hand fall back as the he broke away. Logan followed. The sound of the door closing behind them felt hollow on Alex's ears. Would everything seem empty or full of negativity from now on?

Berak didn't say a word, never indicated how much she knew. She kneeled down next to her wounded friend and pulled her into a hug. Berak didn't need to hear the words. She had felt a chill, some dark sinister force in the small room and seeing Alex like this, she knew. Alex's joy had been ripped from her by a monster. She saw how empty her friend looked, could predict her feelings yet couldn't imagine living with them.

Alex didn't cry. For once, she felt as if this was a proper time, but nothing came. The sorrow was ever-present, though, with support from both Bobby and Carolyn, she felt a knot in her throat, one that wouldn't let anything pass. She was grateful for their help, for the knowledge that they thought she could get better even if she didn't believe it herself.

A hand running from the top of her head to the base of her skull brought her back to the present. "Mike and I are conducting the investigation Alex. Deakins decided to keep it that way. But I wanted to ask you if we could refer to SVU when needed. We won't tell them who you are; they don't have to know." The last two lines where said with hesitation, as if they almost should have never been spoken. And then one more line was added, one that Carolyn knew wouldn't be kind to her friend, but was needed all the same. "They're sending over a psychiatrist."

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"Alex was raped!"

"Mike, calm down! She doesn't want anyone to know, she's stubborn like that. I want you and Carolyn on the case but I want you two to keep that fact out of it as much as possible. Your partner already asked me if you could refer to SVU; I told her it was a great idea. We're going to get them to send over a psychiatrist too."

"Captain!"

"Bobby, we need a professional here." Deakins turned to look at him. Bobby seemed lost for words. Though he never agreed, Bobby sat down without further complaint. Turning back to Logan, he continued. "I called Captain Cragen while you were on your way here and he said he would talk to Dr. Haung, see if he could help us out."

Bobby nodded. "Haung is good." He said it quietly, through the hand that covered his mouth.

"Well, I'm glad you approve." Bobby didn't reply. Instead he stood up and, through his daze, he walked back toward Alex's room. He knocked on the door, Carolyn let him in. He avoided looking at either woman and chose a chair as far from Alex as possible. He tried to look invisible, not wanting to interrupt their bonding, but unable to be without Alex.


	14. Chapter 14

**Horror Relived**

"So, Alex, how do you feel?"

"Fine." The question had been simple enough, but she didn't want to answer, didn't want to verbalize what was really running though her body.

"Is that the truth?" He was persistent by nature, pushing her again.

"No." She looked away.

"Than what is?" She sighed. Did they really have to be doing this now? "Would you like me to invite your partner in? It might make you more relaxed." Alex hadn't noticed, but her shoulders were tense. She let them drop. Did she really want Bobby in here?

Dr. Huang stood up and walked to the door, opening it before he spoke. "Detective Goren, could you join us please?" Alex watched as Bobby walked through the door, his head down in thought though she knew he was trying to hide his emotions.

"Yes?" He scratched his cheek, avoiding Alex's look.

"Your partner is being stubborn." Dr. Huang didn't miss the glace Bobby threw his partner, who looked away. "I was wondering if your presence might help to lighten the mood. You each know the other well enough that you could bring to light thoughts and feelings which could improve Detective Eames' state."

Bobby looked up at Dr. Huang for a moment and then turned, walking into a corner of the room and beckoning Eames to follow him. She stood, and slowly walked toward him, making sure to keep an unusually large distance from him though it was obvious that her emotions were confused. Huang made a noise of interest, but sat back down in his chair and started writing on a note pad.

"Alex, are you ok with this? Do you want me here?" Bobby whispered it, hoping that Huang couldn't hear but that Alex could from her distance. She looked at him, her mouth open, unable to speak. After a moment, she nodded. He nodded back, his gaze falling once again to the floor. He made a sudden move forward and she jumped back in response, her nerves beginning to show through her thick front.

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"Detective Goren!" Bobby turned around. "I wanted to thank you for sitting in with us today. Detective Eames seems to be really insecure about this and until you showed up, she refused to show any emotion at all." Bobby nodded, the doctor intended well but he wasn't sure Alex would ever fully respond to his help.

"Eames! Wait!" Bobby ran to catch up with her. She looked around, noticed no one but him, and made sure to keep him as far from her as possible. "Eames? Are…are you afraid of me?"

"No." It was a little too fast; they both knew it. "Not…not you, just…" Her hands shook.

"Eames…" His eyes were sad, full of the pain he wished he could squeeze from her but he knew if he tried she wouldn't be alright. She broke the gaze and moved forward.

"Can I be alone, please?" She had been released from the hospital three days earlier with much warning about not doing anything physical to abstain from aggravating her injuries. Bobby knew she wouldn't. Hell, she knew that he knew she wouldn't. She didn't want to be near him, but she wanted him to hug her and hold her and tell her everything was alright, that everything would work out and that she was still the Alexandra Eames he knew so well. She knew she wasn't, and she knew he wouldn't. He left her standing at her apartment door.

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That evening found Alex alone in her apartment, restless and sitting on the sofa, holding her gun. She hated to be alone, after dark, but she hated it even more when people were around. What had happened to the old Alex? The one who wasn't afraid of anything, who could handle all of life's problems head on? It was like the essence of Alex Eames had evaporated and all that was left was the human shell to continue life's tasks.

She wanted Bobby there. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was that he was there for her, that he cared so much for her in all his little, idiosyncratic ways. But she couldn't stand it when he was around. She was terrified of him. His every movement made her jump; she twitched when he walked in the room; wanted to run for her life when he looked at her.

And it wasn't just Bobby. She felt the same way anytime she was with Deakins or Logan…practically every man she knew. It scared her, to be so afraid of so many people. She didn't want to live like this, it was too much to have a sensory overload every time she thought of someone.

She got up and walked into her room. The door to her apartment had been locked and checked three times. Her gun was fully loaded and under her pillow, ready for anything that might disturb her. The light was left on and suddenly she was asleep, the light causing a hollow glow upon the curves of her face.

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The phone rang, waking her up. "Barek." Her hand was already at her face, wiping the sleep away. "Alex! Alex! Calm down, I'll be there. No, no, stay where you are, I'm coming." Carolyn got up fast—Alex was in trouble.

Less than three minutes later, still in her pajamas, Carolyn was in a taxi, her cell phone to her ear. "Bobby…no, she's not. I'm going there…no, I don't think…Don't! I'll call you if…You're her partner, you should know…Fine, than wait outside." She snapped the phone shut, paid the driver and ran up the two flights of stairs to Alex's apartment.

"Carolyn, it was so bad. I couldn't fight, I tried, tried so hard…so bad, so, so—"

"Alex, Alex calm down. It was just a dream, no one's trying to hurt you. He's dead. You saw him get shot, that's what you said, that's what the evidence proves. Its over, he can't hurt you." She held her sobbing friend, too concerned for her safety to notice that this was the first time she had ever seen her cry.

But, through the still open door, hidden around the corner, Bobby heard her cries. The tears that fell down her cheeks were visible on his own. She wouldn't let him in—couldn't—he knew. But it still hurt, it hurt to know that he couldn't help her. Whispers fell over his ears. "Alex, Alex please, come back! Come back to me! I miss you, want to help you…I love you, Alex. Please, let me…" He choked on his sadness as he realized who was speaking. It was true, the feeling of wrenching pain that he knew was there because he was separated from her by a wall proved that it was.

"Its ok Alex. Everything is alright. You saw him die, you saw him die."


	15. Chapter 15

**Confrontation**

Carolyn looked up from the crouched position where she was holding Alex. If Bobby didn't stop mumbling quickly, Alex would become aware of his presence. She didn't want to think of the chaos that would arise if she knew. She roped her arms underneath Alex's and pulled her up. "Alex, everything is fine." She cupped her friend's face in her hands and tried to wipe away some of the tears with her thumb. "Why don't we sit on the couch." Alex looked up, her face almost too melancholy to look at, and nodded.

They had been settled on the couch for several minutes, Alex having burrowed herself in Carolyn's arms hoping to find some comfort, when she began speaking. "I feel bad. I'm afraid, so afraid."

"Shh. Everything's fine."

"No its not, Carolyn. I saw his eyes today, I hurt him. I'm afraid of him, but I can't face him. Every time he looks at me, I can feel my skin crawl. Its irrational but I can't help it." Alex paused several times, catching her breath and holding back the onslaught of more tears.

"Bobby?" Alex nodded. "You seemed fine around him in the hospital a few weeks ago."

"I panicked then. I tried to run, but I couldn't. And when he reached out to help, I screamed in terror."

"Alex—"

"But when he was sleeping, I didn't feel afraid at all. It was like I was lost in a trance—like I wasn't me, that I was a third party looking in. And then he woke up and I was too stunned to move. You brought me back."

"You didn't seem to mind when he was in the room with us."

"You were there. I don't understand it, but I feel as if nothing is going to attack in public."

"You want to feel safe around him again." Alex nodded again, and curled farther, as much as she could, in Carolyn's safety. "Would you like to see him now?"

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Bobby quickly refound his breath and calmed his nerves. Sitting on the ground, with his back to the wall, he thought of the revelation that had just come over him. He did love her, in his own special way, but he was fairly sure that it was love. He heard his name float through the door and turned his attention on the women inside.

"…panicked then. I tried to run, but I couldn't. And when he reached out to help, I screamed…" Oh god, how had he been so blind? She had been traumatized and he had treated her as if she was just upset. And then when he had caught her staring at him, he had demanded that she face her problems head on. How could he have been so insensitive?

"Would you like to see him now?" No, she couldn't see him! Not now! He didn't want to panic her anymore. He didn't want to confront her…now that he knew how he felt. He had always tried so hard to keep her happy, he enjoyed her that way, but he had hurt her. She couldn't deal with it right now—_he_ couldn't deal with it right now.

"Bobby? Bobby!" He jumped a bit but turned his head to see Carolyn leaning out the doorway. "Can you—Are you all right?" He nodded quickly and got up, turning his face at an angle so she couldn't see his pained expression. She went back inside. After a moment, he rubbed his hands on his face and followed.

Alex stood at the far side of her living room, looking as if she would flee with the slightest provocation. Their eyes met. She held his and he could see the fear she was so desperately trying to push aside. "Why were you…in the hall?" He broke the gaze, afraid of having her see the truth that he couldn't hide from her.

"I called him." Carolyn stepped in, breaking the moment between the two partners yet again. "He's your partner, Alex. I thought he should know."

"Did you tell him to come?" Alex's voice was beginning to show signs of incredulity. "I thought I called Carolyn, not Carolyn _and_ Bobby!"

"Carolyn called me because she thought it was the right thing to do. I insisted on coming, Carolyn couldn't have stopped me. Be angry with me, not her." Alex, instead of falling into a fit of furry, turned and walked into her kitchen. Unbeknownst to her, Bobby followed, putting up a hand to keep Carolyn from intruding. Carolyn only half followed his command and rested against the doorway into the kitchen with no thoughts to interrupt the coming sequence of events.

Alex leaned over the sink, her head hung trying to steady her breath. "Alex, I'm sorry." The voice was calm and quite, emanating from just behind her head. "Am I scaring you?" She shook and closed her eyes but didn't turn around. "I don't want to hurt you, Alex. Just the opposite, I want to help you." He couldn't see, but she bit her lower lip, trying harder than ever not to cry out with fear. _Carolyn is there. She won't let him do anything. This is Bobby, _Bobby_. He couldn't harm you. Why are you so damn afraid of your own damn partner? There was a time in recent memory where you would have thrilled to have him this close to you but now all you do is shiver like a beaten child. Damn you, Alex. Damn you. For being so weak, for calling Carolyn to solve all your problems, for not being able to turn around and face your fear… You are pathetic._

At that moment, she believed it. She believed what her mind was telling her. Her life was over. No cop could function with this mentality. No human could for that matter. She wanted to break, to collapse and be caught by another human, one she could trust. But she wasn't quite sure what trust was at that point in time. It was all too much, too confusing, too emotional.

"Alex, take your time. I can't imagine anyone would be able to recover overnight. But eventually you will have to deal with it all."

"I don't want to deal with it." Her voice was quiet, shaky, but strong. "I want to forget it ever happened, ignore all its affects."

"You can't do that." His voice had quieted too. Carolyn struggled to hear, but realized the importance of their conversation. "That would change who you are." His hand gently brushed up against her shoulder.

Her shoulders twitched. The feeling of his hand on her back felt good—a warm presence which could guide her if she so wanted. "This is who I am, Bobby." She whipped around and pointed a finger at herself. "I am scared out of my mind! I don't want to deal with this! I want life to be like it was before anything happened, before we went to the opera! If I want to be pathetic, then let me be pathetic! _This_ is me! No one is pulling the strings."

"Alex, you know—"

"No! _I_ am the one living my life! I should be the one who decides how to live it. And if I want to loose a chunk of time, so be it." She roughly pushed him back so she could get away from the sink and stalked out of the room, brushing by Carolyn who followed her with her eyes, completely baffled.

Bobby stood, stupefied for several moments, unable to take in the full shock of what had just happened. She had pushed him away, not only physically, but also mentally. She saw him as a threat. "Bobby…" He felt a hand on his arm and he let it pull him around until he was looking Carolyn in the eye.

Both of them knew confronting Alex in this state would only aggravate the problem but they knew if they left she would do something rash. Instead, they waited, in what, in any other situation, would have be companionable silence, until the time forced them to go to work. Carolyn, with Bobby right behind her apprehensively, knocked softly on Alex's bedroom door before opening it. Alex lay in bed, her eyes closed, her breath steady and sheets twisted around her body. There was nothing more that they could do in that moment so they headed off to work in the same silence, hoping she would wake up in a better state.


	16. Chapter 16

**Anger**

"Uh, Robert Goren?"

"Yes?" Bobby sat at his desk which, as usual, was covered in papers with his cell phone to his ear. He had been officially suspended but both he and Deakins knew he would still show up for paperwork if nothing else. Besides, Deakins couldn't complain about the work that was being finished earlier than expected.

"You're name was given in case of emergencies."

"Wha, what do you mean?"

"Here at Gold's Gym we ask everyone to fill out a from, including contact information, in case of emergency. Alexandra—"

"What happened!" Bobby shot out of his chair, ready to flee to the gym.

"Sir! She is over working herself. She won't stop! We called a few people over to drag her away so she wouldn't over exhaust herself, but she ended up punching them instead. We were hoping you could make her stop."

"I'll be there." Bobby's mood grew dark. Alex was over-exerting herself. Of course she would, she was upset and bullheaded. If she wanted something, nothing could get in her way and she wouldn't stop until she got it.

Without a backwards look he took off toward the gym, leaving in such a hurry that he forgot his coat.

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Alex didn't know how long she had been there. It had been at least twenty minutes since the two large men had attempted to drag her from the punching bag. Oh, they let her go quickly once she started flailing like a mad woman. She smiled grimly at the thought; she probably was a mad woman.

Earlier that morning she had waited until she heard Bobby and Carolyn leave and then she left too. She could not stand another day cooped up in her house, alone. Work was out of the question, as was visiting with her family. She didn't feel like a nice calm walk in the park either. She felt like moving, like being violent.

Last night she had been right. No matter what she did, she was the one doing it, right? Therefore how could she not be herself? She was the one who had to deal with the aftermath, she had gotten herself into the situation, she was the one who hadn't tried hard enough to fight back. It was her fault and her consequences. Everything rested on her shoulders. How _dare_ Bobby imply that she couldn't be herself? That she had to be treated as an entirely different person because of what happened? Couldn't he just ignore it too and start over from before the opera bombings ever started? No, he couldn't. He could never let anything die. She was still hearing grief about the Turner case back in 2003 and even more from the Tagman case more recently.

She could feel the sweat drip from her forehead and her arms, down her chest and into her sports bra. God, she hated that feeling. She probably looked like shit, but she didn't care. Fuck what the world thinks. She was getting tired too, she would have to admit that to herself soon. But she wouldn't stop, nothing would make her stop. She was too furious for that. Jab, jab, punch, upper-cut, followed by a reverse spinning crescent kick. That did it. She fell, the pain from the extra force doing more damage to her already injured hip. Lying on the ground, she was reminded that that was where Diego had kicked her the most. God damn, but he had a strong kick! It hurt like a bitch then, and it hurt like a bitch now.

She lay on the ground, holding her hip and letting her breath become slightly steadier, until she saw a shadow at the door. She got up, no one was taking her out of this room. No one was going to stop her workout from hell. Without looking back, she returned to attacking the bag that hung before her as if she was in the best shape in her life.

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Bobby was led to the room where Alex was. Upon arriving at the door, he saw her lying on the ground. His eyes widened. She had fallen, probably injured herself more, and her breathing was so erratic. But before he could do anything, she was up and punching the leather clad bag again. "Alex, stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Fuck off." She said it with full anger and released a powerful hammer punch to the bag at temple height, a loud grunt accompanying it.

Bobby was taken aback. Alex was not in her right mind. She would never say anything like that to him, like he was scum. He had pissed her off last night, and obviously she hadn't gotten over it yet. He saw her point, but he was right, she would eventually have to come to terms with what had happened. There was no talking her out of this one, not right now anyway.

He hesitated. She was fierce and brutal, and he really didn't want to be near her, especially considering he knew he was the main focus of her anger, or so she thought. But he had no choice, it was either watch her exhaust herself to the point of collapse, or stop her by any means possible. He hated to do it, he really did. Who knew what mental state she'd be in afterwards, but it had to be done, she was hurting herself.

Her grunts were getting weaker by the moment and all her attention was focused the anger that was consuming her. She never heard him coming up behind her. Quickly, he wrapped his thick, strong arms around the middle of her body, trapping her arms as best he could by her sides. He picked he up off the ground slightly so she wouldn't be able to throw him down. Instantly, she began to writhe, trying vainly to escape. His grip was tight and she knew she wouldn't be able to get away. Fear tore through her. _His arms where around her again. Sweat filled the air, and breath was warm and played with her senses. She could feel it fall down her bare shoulders again. She couldn't move; she tried so hard. She would fight back, had too. This couldn't happen again, couldn't._

_She was on the floor, in a different place. She still couldn't move but she knew that something heavy had fallen. She didn't want to open her eyes but she was back at the opera house, she could feel it. There was the same weight around her middle that kept her from moving an inch. Everything felt warm and sticky; she must have been injured. She should call for help. But she couldn't, she was too tired, too beaten to care._

"Alex! Alex!" Her excessive movements had thrown him off kilter and they had both fallen. He couldn't see her face, but he knew something was wrong. She had been screaming in fear before they fell—he had been expecting that, her natural reaction should have been fear. But now she was whimpering, crying. She tried to curl into the fetal position, but his arms were in the way and he wasn't about to let go. "Alex." His voice grew soft, knowing full well that he had probably tipped her over the edge.

"Sir?" The young man from the front desk who had initially led him to her, and had probably been the one who had first called him, cried, a look of shock plastered on his face.

"Call an ambulance." Bobby called to him before turning his attention away from the door and back to the woman still shivering in his arms. He placed a kiss on her head, reminiscent of calmer times, and then turned his head to lay his cheek on her head hoping against hope that she would stop quaking. "Alex, wake up! Please, Alex! Please come back!" He squeezed his eyes, his body tightening around her, trying to shield her against her own pain. But the tears came to his eyes and he let out a moan of sadness.


End file.
